


At Hope's Door

by Glory_Jean



Series: Hope [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Post Episode: s02e13 Doomsday, Time Babies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-23
Updated: 2008-06-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 13:51:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/711454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glory_Jean/pseuds/Glory_Jean
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you find something you hadn't known you'd lost. Babyfic, Fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Hope's Door

**Author's Note:**

> Set in AltEarth, post Doomsday
> 
> Beta [](http://bananasandroses.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://bananasandroses.livejournal.com/) **bananasandroses**  Posted without a final read-through from my beta-reader, sorry. I wanted to post before the big S4 ender.

“We come spinning out of nothingness, scattering stars like dust”

Jalal ad-Din Rum

  
 

She lay very still. As long as she didn't move, she felt all right. The sensation of being on board a speeding train remained, but at least it was bearable. The thin bed she was lying on, in the school sickroom, held a strange, musty smell. It made her stomach churn again. She quickly flipped over onto her back. When her vision stopped wavering, she regarded her surroundings. The infirmary was unusually busy today so the nurse had placed her in a little used overflow room not much bigger than a closet. The small window was shaded and what light crept in made the walls look dingy and gray. Someone had stencilled a flower pattern on one wall. The half-light made it look slightly ominous. 

 

Sleep crept toward her and she welcomed its embrace. Then a strange tickle started in the back of her brain. Part of her was curious, another part annoyed – but the largest part just felt nauseous. She realised then that her hand was falling asleep. If she could just move it a tiny bit... The nausea rushed back in a disorienting wave. She clung tight to the bed as the world tilted and spun beneath her. Her head swum and she whispered urgently to herself, "please stop, please!" She felt a little better, but said a bad word internally anyway. They couldn't punish her for what they couldn't hear.

 

She was almost asleep a second time when the nanny came to collect her. The women clicked her tongue and made sympathetic noises, but all she really wanted was sleep. She felt even more annoyed as she was bundled up and swung into the nanny's not so gentle arms. If she thought the nanny's lurching walk was bad, the car ride was much worse. Halfway home her stomach rebelled and her school clothes were spoiled. The nanny and the driver exchanged eye-rolls, but made noises that were supposed to sound soothing. She swallowed down more bad words. It seemed terribly unfair that only adults were allowed to use those marvellous words when they were upset. She'd felt a strange delight every time one escaped her lips. But it disturbed Mummy so, and she had _promised_.

 

She was soon tucked up in bed and there was ginger ale, a cool cloth and no more confining school clothes. _Sleep oh sleep oh sleep_ , she urged her reluctant body. It came at last, dulling the sickness and stealing her cares. She felt adrift in a blackness that opened to reveal swathes of transparent colour and tiny pinpricks of light. _Stars?_ gathered her up in their arms ( _arms?_ ) and she felt so warm in the coldness. She refused to analyse, for once, and simply gathered up the blackness in return. Distantly, she knew a smile graced her lips as she lost herself in the feeling.

 

 

***

 

She awoke with a start. It was night but light spilled in through her bedroom window. The security lights were on. The babble of voices drifting from the other wing held a note of urgency. She should have felt afraid. The last time ― no, never mind. This was totally different and unimaginably good. It _had_ to be. She felt that in every pore of her being. She felt like – like bouncing, and _― why was that, exactly?_ Belatedly she realised the sickness was gone. Not just better, that after illness grateful-tired feeling. Just _gone_ , evaporated like that special blend of bubble soap – oh she really needed to make some more of that... 

 

 _No, focus_ , she admonished herself in her best Mummy voice. Then she started. The tickle was back in her brain again. And it felt... amused? Giddy even. But how could a tickle feel like a feeling? Especially a feeling she shouldn't be feeling because she wasn't the one feeling it. _Focus_ , she scolded. She ran through some prime numbers half-wishing she had her chalk back. Unfortunately, her chalk was still on a time out after she'd ringed the house with the longest string of pi she could write before she ran out of house. It had been so glorious, covering that boring molding strip with numbers like a mathematical version of the pagan protection symbols she'd studied in RE . Or it had been until she'd been found out. Maybe starting the second row of Fibonacci's sequence had been a bit too far.

 

 _Focus, focus,_ she repeated like a mantra while she pulled on a robe and slippers and used her second-favourite escape route to leave the house unseen. As she stepped into the blessedly cool night, she cast a regretful glance toward her bedroom window overhead. The wall beneath was scarred by the absence of what was once her favourite escape route. Her family worried so much about the silliest things. It was somewhat sweet, but it still annoyed her greatly. When she hit double digits, she would need to win some concessions from them. Because – well, really. They had to give her some freedom _some_ time.

 

She crossed the lawn, keeping away from the puddles of light. It was all too easy. She should probably tell Granddad about the gaping holes in their security system. Even if it would be a little inconvenient. When her hand finally pressed against the garden wall, she knew she was close. A small structure stood in the shadows, just far enough away to be indistinct in the darkness. It didn't belong. That feeling bubbled strongly in her belly. Without a doubt, she knew it didn't belong in so many ways. 

 

At that realisation, the tickle in her head grew to an excited giggle of feeling. She walked toward the little structure letting the presence in her head believe she didn't notice it. And especially not letting him know that she had seen the crouched humanoid figure (who most certainly was the presence) to her left. 

 

Then she stood in front of a strange little box and stopped listening to strange tickles in her mind. Because... well, because it wasn't every day that boxes sang to her about joy and love and the universe and how much it wanted to wrap her up and carry her far away. She was so stunned she just had to throw her arms up against the doors and press her cheek to their surface. She would have hugged it if she could, but her arms were far too small.

 

Then the figure was behind her, sneaking up and tickling her brain once more. She pouted, annoyed, and scratched mentally at it. Really, couldn't he see she was having a moment here? In her head, he shimmered a little surprise and wonder, surging forward as if to hug her from the inside out. She felt a little sick again and thought another bad word. The tickle was not amused. She wondered if she would lose her box-hugging privileges now. Instead, he rushed forward, swishing through the plants, all stealth forgotten. A hand landed softly on her shoulder. Reluctantly, she dropped her arms and turned to face the oddly _familiar_ stranger. He was crouched down and his dark eyes swept over her face as if he wanted to memorise her. 

 

"Oh," he said, so softly she thought he must be whispering in her mind, "you're perfect." He grinned at her for a moment, before amending, "well, of course you're perfect. You're mine. Oh brilliant!"

 

She looked back, learning him as well. Dark hair, unruly like hers, freckles. His long coat puddled on the ground around him. _It'll be all dirty_ , a Gran-shaped thought idly noted.

 

"Oh don't mind that," he waved a hand dismissively. "It always cleans right up. Well," he paused a moment before adding, "with the right science."

 

He stood, grasping her hand in his own. "I've created quite a stir, I'm afraid," he confided, rubbing the back of his neck. "We'd best go explain to the family before they get too upset."

 

She nodded and turned back toward the house. He didn't move, his hand in hers stopping her short.

 

"Could I," he began haltingly, as the words seemed to stick in his throat, "could I – carry you? I know you're terribly grown up – but would you mind? Just this once."

 

She inclined her head in the tiniest of nods and found herself scooped up and held tightly against his hip before she could blink. They smiled shyly at each other.

 

"Right, then."

  


He adjusted his hold on her and strode briskly toward the house.

  


"We really need to work on shielding your thoughts. You are just shouting into my head." His grin belied any annoyance. "Did you really try to confuse your tutor by converting your maths lessons to base 8?"

  


Oh, she'd forgotten about that one.

  


"I was bored, " she whined. "They said he was so smart. Ha! It took him all week to figure it out."

  


"Oh brilliant," he breathed. "We are going to have such fun, you and I."

 

"And Mummy?" she prompted.

 

"And Mummy, of course. She's almost as brilliant as you - close, close second. _So_ close. But _you_ are the most brilliant thing ever."

 

"Ever?" She fell into the game as if she had been playing it all her life.

 

"Ever, ever." 

 

He gave her a smile she knew was for her alone, and a missing part of herself that she'd never known clicked into place.

 

"Ever, ever?"

 

"Ever, ever, _ever_ , ever. Has your Mummy told you about the time we...."

 

She laid her head against his shoulder and let the sound of his voice carry her away.


End file.
